


Like Grains of Sand

by seki



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 16:06:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11695158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seki/pseuds/seki
Summary: Not all constellations are overhead.For Day 5 of Ignoct week 2017, Simple prompt: Constellations.





	Like Grains of Sand

Ignis rolls onto his front, with Noctis's eager fingers stroking and prodding at him in encouragement.

"I was right. It's pretty perfect," Noctis declares, as a continuation of the topic he's been set on for a full two minutes already. "I mean. Not that I have a lot of comparisons. But it's really round and… I kind of wanna use it as a pillow."

Ignis chuckles, folds his arms on the pillow, drops his chin. He's not sure he entirely believes that Noctis has spent the better part of three years admiring his rear end, but he'll take the compliments anyway.

"Or bite it. I could bite it."

"Within reason, I wouldn't even mind."

That gets him a kiss, on the topmost part of his left buttock. "Nah, I don't wanna damage it."

"I'd heal, I'm sure."

Another kiss. "Maybe then." Teeth, so gentle it's teasing, press into his flesh briefly where the kiss had been. The sensation sends a little shiver of sensual delight up Ignis's spine. "Mm, tastes good."

"Of course you like it. It isn't a vegetable."

Noctis makes a snorting noise. His hands move upwards, from Ignis's hips, up and onto Ignis's back. "And… you know, I'd forgotten your back was so freckly."

Ignis turns his head, squints down at his own back. He's always had rather a lot of… well, they're not freckles, really. His mother used to call them beauty marks, those little dark brown flecks. They're moles, Ignis knows now, albeit small and flat ones for the most part. He doesn't mind them, or at least, it's never occurred to him to mind them in the past. Hopefully Noctis doesn't think they're ugly. "I'm a veritable coeurl," he says. "Awash in markings."

"Kinda." Noctis's hand skims across Ignis's lower back. "It's like a dot-to-dot puzzle."

"They're hardly _that_ numerous."

"No, but… hang on, stay there."

Ignis watches Noctis cross over to the bookshelf in the corner, admiring the view; Noctis is _beautiful_ in motion and that he hasn't gotten dressed yet is a wondrous thing. "What are you up to?"

"Yeah, here." Noctis pulls out a familiar and rather battered book, one that Ignis hadn't realised was back in his possession. "Just… yeah, I got an idea."

Noctis sets the book down on the bed next to Ignis as he clambers back on. Ignis can see the cover, upside down from here, _Charts of the Cosmos_. "I did wonder where that was, recently."

"Guilty." Noctis flips open the book, somewhere in the middle. "Your back reminds me of this, though."

_This_ is one of the star-charts, black on white, with lines drawn between the prominent stars for constellations. Ignis swallows down a sigh of gladness; no, Noctis doesn't think the marks ugly, if this is his comparison.

"Hmm." Noctis says, and he splays his hand out across Ignis's lower back. "Here, this bit? Looks like the Siren."

Ignis pulls an 'if you say so' face.

"It _does_."

"They're just blemishes, Noct."

Noctis's brows draw down into a scowl, and then he's scrambling up past Ignis's shoulder and rummaging in the drawer of his bedside table. "There's gotta be a pen in here."

"I'm not _actually_ a dot-to-dot puzzle."

"Shh." Noctis finds a biro, and crawls back down to his previous position. "Right."

Ignis braces himself, feels the tip of the pen dig into his skin and drag, less ticklish than he'd expected.

"This one, to that one." Noctis puts one hand on the page of the book, squints, then Ignis feels the pen move again. "Then across here."

"I do hope this pen washes off."

"Yeah, it will. And then up to here, and then this is her tail, and… there, the fin."

"I refuse to believe my moles are that conveniently laid out."

"Check it out for yourself," Noctis says, and he bends low over Ignis's back, kissing between the shoulderblades. "Mirror's right there."

Ignis heaves himself off the bed with some effort -- while Noctis seems positively energised by what they did to one another earlier, Ignis finds himself more lethargic -- and turns so he can inspect himself in Noctis's mirror, squinting over his own shoulder. There're blue ink trails on his lower back, connecting several of the dark spots there. Ignis can't say it resembles a mermaid much, but then, constellations don't always look that similar to their namesakes.

Noctis holds up the book, on the bed, points at the page. "See? The head, the arm, the spine, the tail, the fin."

"A stellar result, I agree." Ignis returns to the bed, kisses Noctis -- delighting, still, that he _can_ \-- and pulls the book from Noctis's grasp. The page has one of Noctis's childish scrawls at the top, an unreadable but enthusiastic-looking scramble of words, and an arrow from there down to the map. Ignis checks; the lines for the Siren do resemble the ones Noctis has inked onto his skin, if allowances are made for a little distortion. "Do I have any other constellations?"

"Probably." Noctis reaches up, touches beneath Ignis's chin, makes just the gentlest pulling motion so that Ignis bends down and kisses him again. Noctis's hands twist into his hair, urge him downwards.

The book is forgotten for some time. 

What is between them is still new, and so there are still misfires between them. Ignis discovers for the first time that he dislikes greatly the sound and sensation of a tongue swiping into his ear, that there's a clump of waxy product caught in Noctis's hair that feels unpleasant when Ignis gets it on his fingers, that Noctis sometimes is a little clumsy in his passion and pulls or grips on Ignis harder than is enjoyable.

These small problems are vastly outweighed by the good things: how lovely Noctis's moans of pleasure are, how perfect it feels to splay his hand out across Noctis's hip and feel the bone beneath the skin, how _glorious_ it is to be permitted to do things to Noctis that he'd once assumed would only ever be possible in his fantasies. Noctis is both greedier and more generous than Ignis had expected him to be, hands constantly in motion on Ignis's body, mouth seemingly always hungry for kisses.

Love is a miracle, Ignis thinks, and yet here they are.

Noctis's hand, afterwards, tracing inkless lines between the marks on his arm, reminds Ignis to look for the book again. He eventually finds it open and tangled with the discarded sheets, on the floor. The topmost page is a tad creased.

"Is it alright?"

"It's survived worse." Ignis smooths his hand down the page, and then holds it out. "Here."

"Want me to draw on you some more, huh?" Noctis's smile is sly as he takes the book, and isn't that a wonder too, this secret knowing smile. Ignis doesn't know if it even used to exist, last week, before he first dipped his head to meet Noctis's lips.

"I think I could get used to being your canvas."

Noctis pats the bed, and Ignis stretches himself out obligingly. Noctis brandishes the pen. "Okay. The Siren was easy. Let's see… reckon I can find the Priest?"

The pen is a little more ticklish in motion this time, and the lines curve in a suspicious fashion, and by the time Noctis pats Ignis's buttock and says, "all done!", Ignis is rather resigned to what he'll see.

"Breasts," he says, inspecting himself in the mirror. "You drew breasts on my back. _Assure_ me this ink washes off easily."

"Well--"

It's not hard to pin Noctis down on the bed, not when he's incapacitated by laughing at his achievement. "You're going to pay for that, your highness."

"Make me."

"A challenge? Really?" Noctis's eye glint with amusement, and Ignis dips his head, glances down between them. "You're not devoid of markings yourself. Shall I stargaze on your skin?"

"I'm not nearly as freckled as you."

"You think? Let me judge that," Ignis says, and he presses a kiss to the tiny mole on Noctis's forehead. "I could chart them, one mark at a time. It might take a while."

"We got time." Noctis smiles again, that private smile. "Go on. Map me out."


End file.
